Chapter 3She Bankrupted Her Own Family

The Riverport International Financial Center.

The triennial gala was in full swing. A crimson carpet stretched from the grand motor court into the main ballroom, blinded by the relentless flashes of paparazzi cameras.

Richard and Eleanor walked arm in arm, Nancy positioned gracefully between them. They smiled and waved at the press, projecting the picture of an untouchable, aristocratic dynasty.

Austin flanked Nancy’s other side, his hand planted firmly at her waist to shield her from the milling crowd.

Meanwhile, I was escorted around the perimeter by Ethan's junior assistant, walking through the sterile, bleach-scented service corridors before slipping into the ballroom from the backstage pantry.

"Miss Bradford, Mr. Bradford instructed that you remain here," the assistant said, depositing me at a lone high-top cocktail table tucked into the farthest, darkest corner of the hall.

The spot was sandwiched between the guest restrooms and the catering staging area. The dazzling glow of the central crystal chandeliers barely reached this shadowed recess, leaving me illuminated only by a dim wall sconce.

"Please refrain from wandering about so as not to cause any unnecessary misunderstandings," he added mechanically, turning on his heel without even offering me a glass of water.

I pulled out a barstool and sat down.

From this vantage point, I had an unobstructed view of the high-society circus below.

Nancy, radiant in her blush-pink couture gown, was encircled by a ring of debutantes and socialites. The jade pendant on her chest caught the halogen spotlights, radiating an ethereal, mesmerizing luster.

"Nancy, that pendant is breathtaking!" the daughter of a major regional bank president squealed in envy. "That quality... that has to be a private auction piece, right?"

Nancy offered a shy, secretive smile, resting her palm gently over the stone before glancing up at Austin with adoring eyes.

"Oh, it's nothing that grand. Just a little protection charm to keep me safe."

She never named the giver, but the deliberate ambiguity paired with her gaze toward Austin instantly fueled the surrounding debutantes' imaginations.

"Austin is so devoted to you," someone sighed. "That's not just a charm; that looks like an heirloom engagement gift!"

Austin didn't deny it. Instead, he smiled affectionately, tucking a loose curl behind Nancy's ear.

Their picture-perfect romance drew quiet scowls from a few other heiresses who had once harbored hopes of catching the Thorne heir.

"By the way, Nancy," one of them remarked with poorly concealed malice, "didn't the Bradfords recently find their biological daughter from the countryside?"

"Yes," Nancy sighed, a delicate shadow of sorrow passing across her features. "Iris only just arrived from out of town, and she isn't quite used to events like this yet. Mother and Father thought it best for her to rest in a quiet spot so she wouldn't feel overwhelmed."

The crowd’s eyes followed Nancy’s subtle gesture, finally landing on me sitting alone in the dim corner.

"Good lord, look at what she's wearing. Not even an evening gown."

"Well, bloodline or not, you can't scrub the gutter out of someone overnight."

"You're far too soft-hearted, Nancy. Bringing someone like that to a summit... aren't you worried she'll drag the Bradford reputation through the dirt?"

The snide remarks drifted across the ballroom, landing clearly against my ears.

I rested my chin in my hand, my index finger tapping a slow, rhythmic beat against the rim of an empty water glass.

Public humiliation of this caliber didn't even register as an appetizer to me.

I was simply bored.

Suddenly, the heavy mahogany double doors at the main entrance burst open.

The ambient chatter of hundreds of elite guests died instantly.

The master of ceremonies stepped up to the podium, his voice trembling with unbridled excitement through the speaker system:

"Distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen! Please join me in giving our most esteemed welcome to the personal envoy of the National Commerce Directorate—the sole heir to the Pierce Dynasty..."

"Mr. Holden Pierce!"

A collective gasp swept through the room.

The Pierce family.

An old-money empire operating at a level where a single signature on a ledger could trigger a seismic shift across the global stock exchange. To a syndicate like Pierce, the Bradfords were insignificant specks of dust.

Richard Bradford’s eyes practically ignited.

Straightening his silk tie, he motioned frantically to Ethan and Nancy, eager to push his way to the front line to offer a toast. Austin followed close behind with his champagne flute raised.

The crowd surged forward in a desperate wave, everyone vying for a fraction of a second of Holden Pierce’s attention.

Only I remained seated in the shadows.

Holden strode into the hall wearing a charcoal, bespoke Brioni suit. He radiated an untamed, dangerous arrogance—the kind possessed only by men who owned the ground everyone else walked on. Surrounded by private security and top-tier magnates, he didn't even bother acknowledging the greetings, marching toward the VIP dais with undisguised boredom.

"Mr. Pierce, it is an absolute honor," Richard managed to wedge himself to the front, offering a deferential, practiced bow. "I am Richard Bradford, Chairman of the Bradford Group."

Holden halted. He cast a flat, indifferent glance at Richard.

Complete silence.

Richard’s smile froze on his face, his raised glass hovering in the air like a lead weight.

Seeing the awkward stall, Nancy took a delicate step forward and offered her softest, most charming smile.

"Good evening, Mr. Pierce. I'm Nancy Bradford."

She subtly arched her neck, ensuring the white jade pendant gleamed under the lighting.

"I've heard you have an exquisite eye for antiquities. I was wondering if this particular jade—"

"Get out of my way," Holden cut in, his voice as cold as dry ice, treating her like an annoying fly.

Nancy’s face drained of all color. She stumbled back, falling into Austin’s arms.

Austin scowled, opening his mouth to defend her, but Ethan’s sharp instinct had already caught onto something else. Spotting me in the corner, Ethan marched over with furious strides and clamped his hand around my forearm.

"Iris, what the hell are you doing sitting here?"

He pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up, his voice hushed with vicious authority.

"Head out the back exit right now. Mr. Pierce is notoriously ruthless. If he catches sight of your shabby appearance and takes offense, the family won't be able to protect you."

...